“I run because it’s my therapy. The runner’s high is real – it’s the closest thing to flying without leaving the ground.” – media mogul and marathon runner, Oprah Winfrey
Kuching on the Run
FOR the longest time, I associated running with school sports day and the occasional charity event.
It was something I did because I had to – not because I wanted to.
Running was a punishment in physical education, a chore during fitness week, and something I avoided unless there was free food at the finish line.
So, imagine my surprise when my husband, who once joked that running was “hurrying toward nothing”, started planning running dates with his friends.
It started small – an evening jog around our taman.
He came back red-faced but oddly energised.
Then came the early-morning texts from his buddies: “10 km tomorrow? 6.30 am?”
Before I knew it, he was voluntarily waking up before sunrise, lacing up his running shoes, and meeting with a couple of his friends at Dewan Undangan Negeri (DUN) compound, Padang Merdeka or the Kuching Waterfront for what I now call his unofficial “bro runs”.
He doesn’t belong to a formal running group – at least not yet – but the consistency is there.
Four to five times a week, he gets up before the rest of the city, while the streets are still quiet, and the sun is just beginning to stretch across the Sarawak River.
He runs not for competition, not to clock a personal best, but to feel good, which he does and I can see it.
The glow he returns with isn’t just from the sweat.
There’s a calm in his eyes and a lightness in his step.
It’s as though the world slows down for him, even as his feet race forward.
That’s when I realised – he was chasing and maybe even catching the elusive runner’s high.
Science tells us that runner’s high is real.
It’s not just a poetic way of describing exercise bliss – it’s a rush of endorphins and endocannabinoids that flood the brain during prolonged aerobic activity.
It leaves you feeling euphoric, pain-resistant, and oddly at peace.
And while not everyone experiences it on every run, those who do say it’s one of the main reasons they keep going back out there, again and again.
In Kuching, that rush is becoming a city-wide phenomenon.
Step outside early in the morning or just before dusk, and you’ll see them – lone joggers with headphones in, small groups pacing together in quiet rhythm, and even full-fledged running clubs in matching shirts and hydration packs.
The city has, in its understated way, embraced the running lifestyle.
Across the city, informal running communities are thriving.
There’s something beautiful about it.
No frills, no expensive equipment – just a pair of shoes, a willing heart, and some motivation with or without friends in tow.
While my husband hasn’t joined a group and I suspect he enjoys the freedom of his casual “runner bros” arrangement; I can see how easy it would be to get swept up in the community spirit.
These groups support one another.
They celebrate small wins, like shaving a minute off a 5-kilometre time or finally conquering that tough incline.
More importantly, they show up – week after week, rain or shine.
What’s heartening is how inclusive the scene has become.
It’s not just for athletes or the ultra-fit.
It’s for beginners.
For new parents trying to reclaim a bit of mental space.
For people managing stress, or anxiety, or simply looking to get out of the house and feel the wind on their face.
It’s fitness, therapy, and socialising all rolled into one.
Even the city itself seems to be catching on.
Public parks are better maintained, and pathways are more runner friendly.
Events like the Kuching Marathon and smaller fun runs are drawing larger and more diverse crowds each year.
It’s not just a trend – it’s a movement and one that seems to be growing with every kilometre logged.
As for me, I haven’t quite caught the bug yet.
But I’ve found myself watching his warm-ups with curiosity.
I’ve even entertained the idea of joining him – if only for the post-run breakfast.
Maybe, just maybe, something is waiting out there for me too.
A quiet trail, a clear mind and that high everyone keeps talking about.
Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching my husband – it’s that running is less about reaching the finish line and more about discovering the joy in movement.
In being present. In sharing the road, the effort, and the small victories with others – even if it’s just a friend or two.
Kuching is running and running together.
And in a world that often feels too fast, too loud, and too full, that kind of mindful movement might be exactly what we all need.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune. The writer can be reached at sarahhafizahchandra@gmail.com.
